Hotel Elevator Trouble
by SkaterGirl14
Summary: Brooke Hogan went to meet up with Randy Orton when the power goes out....I'm not good at summaries so just plz read.. This is my first story so plz be nice.


**Hotel Elevator Trouble**

As the elevator car rushes up, she sinks back against the back wall and only now she realizes ... she's at his hotel ... she shouldn't be here ... she shouldn't have done this. She moves back to the control panel and presses the button for the lobby. The car continues up ... it will stop at his floor before returning to the lobby.

What an idiot I am, Brooke thinks and catches sight of herself in the polished surface of the doors. She's standing there, nervously fingering her hair and studying herself in the metal surface when something causes the elevator to falter.

A surprised "oh!" escapes her. She reaches instinctively for the handrail. The car jerks upward again ... the next floor is Randy's ... almost there ... the light for his floor flickers but then ... the car shudders to a stop and the lights go out...

And she'd say there is dead silence except for the fact that the elevator groans and wobbles, metal scraping cement. She clings to the handrail, darkness absolute. Too afraid to move for fear any movement will send the elevator hurtling down.

For long moments, she is frozen in place. Then she slowly creeps forward to the front of the car and madly feels about under the control panel for the phone to call for help at the front desk. She grips onto the phone when she finds it ... but there is nothing on the other end ... no static, no voices.

The elevator is no longer moving. At all. This should make her feel better ... at least she isn't hurtling to her death. She opens her mouth to scream for help...

"Randy! Help! Randy!" she screams at the seam of the door. "Help me!"

She screams and screams as she feels that new fear of enclosed, small, dark spaces overwhelm her.

He has done nothing more than move easily across the darkened room to take hold of his flashlight. It is on the bureau near the door. Later, he thinks about how this is the reason he heard her screams so quickly.

Not that he knows it's her right away. Instead, he just knows someone inside the hotel is screaming. He opens his door, scans the hall as he listens to fix where the scream is coming from. This is when he realizes it's Brooke.

He is racing down the hall ... unsure what has happened to Brooke but knowing she needs him. Quickly, he realizes she's in the elevator and it is now stuck between floors because of the power outage. In his calmest voice, he calls to her to let her know he's there ... that he will get her out.

His reward is her frantic pleas for him to hurry. _Hurry, Randy, oh please hurry!_

He uses his hands to pry open the outer doors to the elevator shaft.

When he gets the inner doors open, he sees that the elevator is lodged about halfway between floors. He kneels down, shining his flashlight into the cavern that is the elevator in the pitch black. She is huddled in the far corner; her hands are over her mouth and her eyes are so wide.

"Brooke," he says and she sobs his name out as she reaches her hands out to him. "It's okay ... c'mon ... come to me, I'll help you out."

"I can't!" she wails at him. "I can't move, Randy! Help me ..."

He takes in her tear stained face, the wild look in her eyes. He also takes in the situation ... lines up the rescue. He can get her out but she must come to him, grab his arm, and let him lift her out. He tells her that ... he says it in his very calm, very sure voice. She is too frightened, she tells him.

"No, you're not. Brooke! Brooke, listen to me ... you are not too scared. You can do this. You can do anything. You just got frightened in the dark ... anyone would. But you are stronger than about anyone I know."

"No, I'm not. Oh, Randy, I'm not."

"Brooke ... you trust me, don't you?"

"I trust you. I do. I always have."

"Good girl," he says, smiling even though she cannot see it. "Time to show me how much you trust me. Get up and walk over here ... you can do it, Brooke. I believe in you."

She opens her mouth but then she doesn't say whatever she was going to. Instead, she gets to her feet and even though her leg are unsteady, she follows the trail his flashlight makes for her. And then she's right below him, staring up, trusting him. His heart seems to beat harder. He would shake his head to will this feeling away from inside himself but he doesn't want to shake the feeling of her trusting him like this. He lies on his stomach and inches his body forward until his chest is hanging over the space between the elevator's top and the surface of the floor he's prone upon. He reaches both arms down to her.

"C'mere. Come to me, Brooke ..." he says. His voice is soft and yet impossibly deep.

Without thought, she reaches her arms up and grabs his wrists. Slowly he pulls her up. Her toes dangle only long enough for her to note how very much in his utter control and protection she is. In that moment, fear is irrelevant.

He grunts softly as he yanks her up through the opening and then rolls with her out of the elevator shaft. She is wrapped around him, trembling, holding on for dear life. Quickly, he is on his knees, afraid his bulk will crush her. She won't release the death grip she has on him. He leans back on his haunches; he's cradling her in his lap, one big arm around her waist; his other hand cupping the back of her head to hold her face against his neck. He leans his cheek in against hers.

Her legs are around his waist; her ankles locked behind the small of his back. Her arms cling around his neck ... her face buried there. She realizes he is rocking her, gently. He is murmuring in her ear...

"I've got you now ... you're safe, Brooke. Safe."

"Don't let me go, Randy," she pants near his ear. She feels his arm tighten around her. "Please just hold me. Please. I need you so much. I need to be with you ..."

He doesn't speak. Not with words. Leaving the flashlight. He rises, lifting her with him.

She thrills at his strength. She wants nothing so much as to get lost and find herself waking up next to someone who will make everything right for her again.

He carries her down the hall. His hand under her ass is the one he uses to open his door. He kicks the door shut behind him. And walks in, her still in his arms, still wrapped around him.

Looking down into her face, her eyes on his ... expectant ... hopeful ... wanting him.

"Why are you here?" he says, awkward now that he's faced with what he's wanted without allowing himself to act on it.

"I don't know ... I don't know why I came ... Maybe ..." She closes her eyes and wishes this question away. She wishes for him to make a move.

"Did you come for me, Brooke?" he prompts her. "Tell me ..."

She opens her eyes, sees complications. She shakes her head, puts her fingers, three of them, over his lips to stop his words.

"I need you," she whispers. "Don't let me go."

It's been maybe three seconds since they entered the room and he kicked the door shut. He reacts to her invitation. She needs him ... as a woman needs a man ... this is something he has let himself think about and here it is. It jolts him and he reacts. He doesn't really mean to but he slams her into the wall at the same exact moment he is forcing her face to his so he can kiss her. He means to kiss her slow, thorough. Instead, he takes her mouth by force.

She responds to this ... This is passion, it flashes through her mind, has she ever in her life felt such passion from any man? Has any man ever felt like this to her? His body presses her into the wall ... she can feel he's hard already ... and he's rubbing himself right over her crotch. She lewdly wiggles there.

He feels her wetness through the silk of his boxers. It excites him more. Evidence of what she feels ... of what he makes her feel. She is small; fragile ... the difference between their bodies is something he will exploit.

Reaching between them, keeping her body pressed to the wall, he slides his hand along her thigh, under her hitched up skirt. His thumb glides along the wetness of her crotch and he presses in more firmly over her mouth, his tongue driving hers to his will.

She moans and trembles. When his mouth leaves hers, she gasps for breath ... she closes her eyes tightly when he sucks in on her neck ... kissing, licking, nipping ... all the while his thumb is rubbing through her panties, over her nub, in all the wetness there. Yes, yes, she thinks ... and then she pants it aloud and shivers in anticipation when his fingers begin working their way under the crotch of her panties...

And then ... and then his finger is up her. Up. Inside.

"Oh God!" she moans.

He grunts. Nothing else. He wants to be lost inside the experience with her. And for now, he seeks nothing more than her loosening. It doesn't even have to be big ... he just wants her to understand what he can do ... the kind of lover he can be for her. He is rhythmic now ... he tongues her ear ... bites in on her neck ever so slightly, so intending for her to understand he is in charge but he will make this good.

His finger inside her is stroking ... insistent, mesmerizing ... she is reaching for his mouth ... her hands on his face now ... intent on kissing him even as he is making her feel like singing from the rafters ... and then ... and then she is sucking on his tongue and she is coming ... fluttering around his finger ... her kissing falters as she grows almost languid there on the other side of coming.

He will not give her a moment to really recover. He wants her like this ... loosened by the coming ... ready for him. He starts pawing at her top ... dragging it over her head. His nimble fingers, some damp with her, go between them and unzip her skirt. He sets her down, still trapping her against the wall ... and he shoves her skirt off and then makes quick work of her bra and panties. And she's nude now ... He hikes her back up, against the wall, against his body.

"You feel so good," she says, her voice lightening quick. Her fingers stroke the silk he wears. Her ankles rub over the silk boxers. Her hands grip into the silk singlet. Her body moves to feel the silk against her breasts. "I've never felt a man who feels as good as you."

"You just wait," he says, his voice suddenly gruff.

He's all over her body ... touching her, rubbing on her, kissing her.

She doesn't remember sex being like this ... but it's been so long ... and even before that, was it this kind of total abandoned great? But his body ... Randy's body ... is incredible and he just knows what to do for a woman. He takes his time but he makes her feel like time is flowing so fast she can't catch her breath. He shifts under her ... trying to palm one of her breasts ... she feels herself slipping, falling ... she reaches out for equilibrium ... knocks down a picture ... it crashes down ... startling her ... she gives a tiny leap in his arms.

He stops ... looks at her ... eyes meet ... no stopping now. Now she belongs to him. She needs him.

Whirling around, he carries her to the bed ... they crash down ... rolling over ... her legs coming from around him ... he's shoving them up ... up over his shoulders ... she goes stiff ... but he spreads her legs wide before him and he kisses her there ... on her other lips ... a long, soft, unexpected kiss.

They are both holding their breaths.

She shudders.

He presses himself in against the bed, wiggling out of his boxers and not wanting to use his hands.

"Please ..." she whispers.

"Please what?"

"Just please ..."

"Tell me. Tell me what you want."

He looks up at her ... she sees his lips are wet ... his shadowed chin is wet ... She doesn't want to say ... she just wants him to know ... to know what she wants ... but he won't do anything until she tells him. His eyes are hard, ravenous.

"Eat me," she mutters. He frowns. "Eat. Me."

And so he does ... she lets go of the momentary flicker of annoyance to have been goaded into such a request in such uncivilized words. And then she doesn't think anymore because he is just ... Oh my God ... he is just ... she cannot think ... she calls his name out ... and again ... and her hands are twisting the sheets and her hips are swaying side to side ... and his hands are under her ... and his tongue ...

She comes with a squeak. It embarrasses her that she sounds like that ... he doesn't seem to notice. He is climbing over her. She spreads her legs. He rubs the head of his penis through her wetness. She feels it as a soft bluntness. Has she ever craved the intrusion of a man before with the fervor she feels in this exact moment? Surely she must have ... when she was in love ... didn't she?

He nudges himself in. It takes all his willpower to not simply ram inside her. But he has to be careful. She gasps as he gets inside maybe an inch ... he lets her adjust. She moans. He goes in further. You're so big, she sighs. She wants him too much. Her hand slides down to the small of his back and she prods him to push in deeper. Deeper. And ... then he can feel he is in all the way.

"Oooh God," she says, her voice trembling. "So big."

"So good," he says back, relishing the way that makes him feel. And the way his cock feels, surrounded by her. "All for you, Brooke ... feels good?"

"Oooh yes," she half sobs as he begins to thrust. "So good."

He fills her all the way. Every part of her. He's so far in her, so wide, so deep ... and it's not just his penis ... it's his voice ... his hands ... his lips ... his skin...

His skin ... her eyes flash open ... she fingers his silk singlet ... he's still wearing it ... it must come off ... it must come off ... she shoves and pulls and twists ... until he's disturbed enough to help and soon it's gone ... and now it's skin to total skin. Reveling his nice tanned muscular body.

Sweaty skin to sweaty skin.

He's got his mouth against the roundness of her shoulder. He is concentrating. He wants nothing more than to see this night make a difference for her. He doesn't want to get too lost in it ... he wants to keep his head ... not lose his way ... He slows down ... deliberately.

She groans. It is a long, low groan of frustration. It makes him smile. He runs his hand down her thigh. He feels it move under his hand as she angles it against his ribs. He kneads her skin along the path he takes to her breasts.

"Christ, you taste good," he mutters. "Even your sweat tastes good."

She says nothing. Just watches him explore her, with his cock tucked inside her and he's taking the time to touch and feel and taste ... It blows her mind.

But it doesn't take long and she wants more ... more ... _oh please give me more! _That's what I should say, she thinks. I should scream it ... bet he'd like that ... Oh God he feels so good ... nothing ever felt this good, did it? Did it? Or have I forgotten? No ... don't think ... just feel ... just take ... take what he can give you.

He is whispering in her ear ... it is disjointed and she is only half listening because she's concentrating so hard on what she's feeling down below and how it seems she will come soon because he is so good ... so good. Never one better.

When he pulls out, she is caught by surprise. She trembles at the loss and her hand on his shoulder spasms, grips, tries to pull him back. But he takes that hand of hers in his ... kisses it ... sucks on her middle finger ... she smiles nervously because this seems rather obscene but he seems to like it...

"Touch me," he says softly, now taking her hand down to his crotch.

She feels him ... he is hard and wet ...

He likes it ... very much. She can tell by the way his eyes go sort of soft and then he rocks in her hand, his still holding her wrist but now softly. He nuzzles in at her neck as she pumps him.

"Would you like to taste me?" he asks her, whisky voiced and not to be denied anything.

"Taste you?" she asks.

"Want me to tell you what I want?" She doesn't say anything, just grips him in a bit tighter. He puts his mouth over her ear and darts inside with his tongue.

He rubs his thumb along her bottom lip and then leans in to suck it between his lips. He kisses her, his hand back between her thighs, intent on restoring the rhythm he'd been building for her.

"Let me back in," he says, teasing her back to where they were. "I need to be inside you, Brooke baby ..."

She smiles up at him and feels the welcome return of his body above hers. When he is inside, she nips in at his neck and whispers against his ear as he begins to pump into her, "So good ... oh, Randy feels so good."

He turns them both until he is beneath her. They are still joined, him inside her. He thrusts up, rocking up into her ... She puts her hands on his shoulders and lets her head lean down, closes her eyes and simply rocks back and forth ... She concentrates on that wonderful sensation of the way it feels as her sensitized, so alert clit rubs over the coarseness of his hair all the while his big cock slides in and out on a cushion of moisture that is nothing so much as desire anticipating culmination of this act.

Her fingers grip in when he shoves up and grabs her hips in his hands. He moves her to a faster rhythm ... his rhythm.

"Look at me," he tells her, his voice harsh in its want.

It takes everything out of her just to raise her head. Just to look down at him. He is so handsome ... so virile ... such a man ... almost foreign to her in how little she expected him to want her like he does.

He wants her. Oh. Oh, the thought of that!

"I want to watch your eyes when I make you come this time ..." he says. It's the start of this mantra, like he's mesmerizing her with his voice even while his body hypnotizes her, excites her, relishes her ... all at the same time.

And then she's coming, cursing, grasping him, falling down atop his chest ... sobbing with the release.

He turns them again until she is now under him ... and now he won't be held back even by himself. Now he wants it too much ... the ending ... the culmination ... the total knowledge of her that only comes when he comes inside her after making love to her like this.

It's intimacy he wants this night.

He even thinks he gets it when she falls asleep, curled up at his side, tucked under his arm, her cheek and hand on his chest. Her hair is damp with perspiration that he caused. Her thighs are smeared with his semen. She has bruises he's put on her when he gripped too tightly ... unfamiliar with her body and a bit too eager with his own.

As she slumbers against him, he keeps a hand on her back, reassuring pressure. He goes over and over their words ... the ones they said moments before he came. She said she would never regret this, that she needed him so much. He said, "I will always be here for you. Whatever you need."

He knows it then ... that he's fallen in love with this brave woman. And it will be so complicated. But he trusts them both ... they will figure it out ... they will do the honorable things ... it is serious, what they feel for each other, but it has consequences they will face because it's worth it to end up fighting for what they feel for each other. He will help her through what comes ... the good times, the bad times, the ugly times, it will be worth it. She is worth it. She is brave and he is realistic. He can count on her. She can count on him.

This is what he believes and it's what he's thinking when he falls asleep.

In the morning, he wakes alone in the bed. Groggy, he turns over to get his bearings. He can see a light under the closed bathroom door. He hears water running. A sense of relief rushes over him. She's just in there washing up. He smiles at the notion of her sneaking out of bed to go wash away the evidence of their joining. It strikes him as somehow sweet.

He struggles to sit up against the pillows he yawns himself awake. She's taking longer than he thought. He's halfway out of his bed, intending to go drag her out ... drag her to the bed and have her again...

Except his eyes notice something is amiss and then his brain registers what it is.

Her cloths are no longer strewn in the entryway floor where they'd been the night before ... when he'd stripped her there against the wall.

He frowns and studies the closed bathroom door as if it will reveal another answer than the one he already knows is the reason that her clothes are not on the floor this morning. He sighs and it's a hard thing to feel, that sigh. He is feeling the weight of all his years, all his mistakes, all his misgivings, all his promises to himself.

Rising from the bed, he gathers his boxers and steps into them, just as the bathroom door opens. He looks steadily at her as she comes out.

"Stay," he says to her. "Stay with me, Brooke."

"You sure?"

"Of course I am."

"Ok... I'll stay."

"Yes? you said yes right?"

"YES!" she cries out, putting her arms around his neck him. "Yes."

"You said yes." Randy says while picking up Brooke and spinning around.

"We need to talk to my parents still you know, and get all my stuff"

"How do you think they will take it? "

"They will be happy for me."

"When do you want to go get your stuff?"

"As soon as possible and when we go over we can tell my family"

Later that day they went and got Brookes stuff and told her family they all were happy for her except Terry but he soon got over it when he saw how happy Brooke was with Randy.

The End!


End file.
